


A Wandered Man, Call Me Sand

by Johayc



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural Differences, Din gets a Tusken boyfriend, I love the tuskens and they deserve better so here we are, Injury, M/M, Slow Burn, space linguistics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johayc/pseuds/Johayc
Summary: “Our people are warriors. Both Mandalorians and Tusken are… seen as brutal, as killers.”“We are,” A'Yuqw says proudly.“We are,” Din laughs. “Most would not consider it a compliment.”“Well, we are not like most,” his knife continues to work. “We are survivors.”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Male Character(s), Din Djarin/Tusken Raider
Comments: 50
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set right after Din’s ambushed on his way back to Mos Eisley in S2E2.  
> Any and all feedback super appreciated!!  
> This first chapter is getting to know some Tuskens, but things really kick off in chapter 2! We get adventure, learning about each other, even feelings! Should be up in a week or two.

Somewhere in the Dune Sea, a lone figure travels under the heat of twin suns. His armour shines across the vast openness of the desert like a warning. A dangerous man, a Mandalorian. He crests a hill, coming to a stop. 

With his helmet display, the Mandalorian sees a line of Tusken Raider tracks heading away into the dunes. Checking his water pouch and finding it still empty, he glances down at the child, sleeping fitfully in his bag. The tracks angle away from his route back to Mos Eisley, but with his injured pace it's not certain he’d make it back to town, anyway.

He sighs, and changes course. 

It’s nearing dusk when Din finally spots the glow of the Tusken camp in the distance, tucked between the sandstone cliffs that rise like a krayt skeleton from the dunes. He adjusts his stance under the weight on his shoulders, feeling the blaster wound on his ribs twinge. 

He sees movement in his periphery - a scout, making himself known on top of a nearby dune. Din signs out a greeting, movements exaggerated to account for the distance. He requests a meeting, and with the scout’s go ahead, walks to meet him.

The scout looks like any Tusken warrior, beige robes shifting in the cooling night air. His face coverings give nothing away, but any Mandalorian could read the subtle cues indicating that this scout was at ease. Coming closer, Din sees why - hanging from his neck, alongside the ammo belts crossing his chest, lie the binoculars he’d bartered away for safe passage across the desert. This same scout had also aided in the takedown of the krayt dragon, though they hadn’t spoken much. 

“Greetings, friend,” Din says, both in Tusken sign and spoken language.  
“Greetings,” the scout lowers his Gaffi stick. “What business have you here?”

Din proceeds to explain his run-in with the team of hunters, his lack of supplies and injury. There’s a moment, staring at the silent form of the Tusken, where he thinks perhaps their alliance has run its course, and his fingers almost twitch in anticipation of reaching for his blaster. Then, the Tusken nods, commands him to wait here, and strides off towards the encampment.

Once he’s nothing but a dot of movement in the distance, Din sighs, and drops his Amban rifle and supplies onto the sand, taking a seat beside the hunk of krayt meat. The child gurgles from inside his pouch, wiggling his head free to see why they’d stopped. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says gently, his helmet tilted down to regard the one in his care. The child blinks back up at him, cooing when leather clad fingers scratch lightly between his ears.

He’d travelled briefly with a different clan of Tusken years ago, when searching for a particularly stubborn bounty. In this time he’d learned a bit about their culture - things not included in the language files he'd studied. He ate their food, slept in their camp, even learned to shape his vocal chords into an approximation of their spoken language. He’d learned that the raiders were a brutal yet honourable people, and was hopeful that he’d be allowed to travel with them again for a time.

After the second sun dips below the horizon, Din sees the Tusken come back up the dune, approaching slowly with his weapon at his back. He stops, tilts his head towards Din’s sitting form. He stands, tries not to groan out loud as his wound burns.

“Follow me,” the Tusken says, turning without waiting for Din to follow. Looks like he'll be spending some time with the Tuskens again.

Down at the mouth of the valley where the dunes rise high into the night air, Din watches the Tuskens with hidden curiosity. Around the outer edge of the camp there’s a few more scouts keeping watch, who greet his Tusken with a nod. 

The tents are arranged in concentric half circles against the cliff, with lanterns spaced out between every other tent. He sees children running around in the centre of the settlement, safe from the outside world. They wear neutral robes, obscuring their form just like the adults. There’s a smell of cooking meat, likely the krayt dragon, and the musk of animal enclosures. The dog-like creatures bark as they pass. His scout doesn’t react, and Din follows silently behind him.

He guides him to the centre of the settlement backed against the outcrop of rock, with a blazing fire pit illuminating a group of four Tuskens deep in discussion. The rock cliffside is painted in intricate designs, swirling patterns that radiate from the centre of their circle. The Tuskens pause upon seeing the two of them approach - the beskar is hard to miss, glowing in the fire light. One of them stands, greeting the scout before turning to the Mandalorian. 

Din steps forward, head lowered.  
He knows that he’s not to make eye contact with their leader until spoken to, so he observes the worn but sturdy boots of the Tuskens.

“Mandalorian,” the leader says, “what business have you here?”

“I am seeking shelter and provisions, on my journey back to Mos Eisley.” Din raises his head, but avoids direct eye contact. “I was ambushed by hunters, who attempted to take the child.” The Tuskens appreciate concision, so Din leaves it at that. 

“You are the one who negotiated the killing of the krayt dragon, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And struck the killing blow,” the scout adds from his spot beside Din.

The leader pauses a moment, before saying “For that you are in our debt, and may accompany our clan as you need.”

Din feels relief flow through him, and thanks the leader. He regards them silently, a tall figure garbed in the flowing robes of the Tusken people. They don’t appear particularly daunting, but it is best not to underestimate one of their warriors, as the robes obscure their strength. 

“A’Yuqw”, the leader says, “you’ve met the Mandalorian previously.”

The Tusken at Din’s side nods.

“Then you will accompany the Mandalorian during his travels with us.” The leader turns back to Din, saying “You will follow our ways.”

“Yes,” Din says, “our ways are… similar, Mandalorians and Tusken. I will do so gladly.”

The leader nods. “It is decided.”

Din follows the scout - A'Yuqw - away from the bonfire, stopping a ways away at a tent, the beige canvas and wooden poles making it identical to the rest. 

“Our healer will tend to you now”, he says, rolling a flap of canvas aside. “I will come for you once you are done.”

Din thanks him, and the scout nods and strides off. He's not enthused about seeing this healer, but will honour his promise to follow the Sand People’s way.

Upon entering the tent, Din sees a Tusken sat cross-legged on a woven mat, measuring out some ochre powder into a glass jar. There's a small bedroll laid out beside them, various dried plants bound in twine or heaped in baskets. A small lamp burns sweetly, the scent rising up to the open smoke flap. 

The healer greets Din, and as soon as he sets the Child down into a free basket, the healer begins their interrogation about his injury. Din explains, unbuckling his chest plate and raising his flight suit too to show off an angry blaster wound. It looks worse that Din suspected, puffy and seeping. The healer forces him to lie down on the bedroll, and begins their work. 

He tries to keep his mind off the throbbing pain as the wound is cleaned, looking up towards the child. Din raises his free arm to extend a hand to the kid, whose tiny claws grab a finger with a happy coo. Din tells himself it's to comfort the child.

After he’s done with the healer, A’Yuqw takes Din towards where they’ll be staying for the night. In his time being treated, the children seem to have gone to bed and the camp has settled down, quiet conversation hidden behind the glowing tents. Din follows. He feels bone tired, exhausted from every step of his journey thus far. The travel, the fighting, his worry for the child’s safety. Being on the run. Din can't remember the last time he had a chance to relax while in the shared protection of other warriors. Perhaps not since his last time at the covert, before he got his beskar. 

A few minutes later A'Yuqw stops in front of a tent.

“This is me,” he says. “We do not share tents with those who are not our family. You may use this one,” he gestures at another tent beside his own. “If you need anything, you may call on me.” He pauses a second, before adding “I trust your injury is improved.”

“Yes,” Din says, “your healer is very knowledgeable.”

“Yes, though perhaps lacking a gentle hand.”

Din huffs, something close to a laugh.

“Goodnight, Mandalorian.”

Din bids him goodnight and heads inside. It's small, similar to the tents used by the warriors he travelled with years ago. Meant for constant travel. It's enough for him to spread out comfortably on the bedroll, and stack his armour to the side. He gathers his cloak around the child in a swaddle and tucks him into the curl of his arm. The child snuggles in, already halfway back asleep.

“We’re safe here, buddy,” he says quietly. Din allows himself to fall into a deep sleep.

The healer had instructed him to take it easy for a few days, so Din concedes that perhaps he could rest, for a day. He sleeps til the suns are well past risen, only rising when the child pats at his helmet, squealing and hungry. 

He goes to sit up, collapsing back with a pained grunt. He’d forgotten about the injury. Damn it.

Outside, the Tusken camp is lively, conversation overlaying the rush of a warrior band getting ready to leave. This was the side of the Tuskens that Din was familiar with, and he ached to join them. He knew where he stood with them, knew the rhythm of their hard trek across the desert, the feel of sand at his back and stars overhead as they slept in shifts around the low fire. Here, taken away from the action, he wasn’t sure what was expected of him. 

He attempts a knock at the scout’s tent, calling out a greeting before a hand clasps onto his shoulder. Din turns, startled by the contact.

“You're looking for your guide,” a Tusken says, “he's off with the children, you'll find him by the fire.”

Din thanks the warrior and heads off in search of his guide. On his way the Massiffs bark and yowl and the child babbles with interest. “Later,” Din pats his head, “We'll go visit the nice dogs later.”

Back towards the central area of the camp, they spot a group of children playing against the sandstone cliff. A ball goes flying through the air, thwacks against the wall and flies back to the group of kids. Din sees a few adults among the children, most watching but one joining in. Din approaches slowly.

A few of the Tusken look distinct from A’Yuqw and the other warriors, with a metal helmet over their robes instead of the usual goggles and mouthpiece. Not a helmet like his own, but one with a long rectangular metal piece descending from the face covering. It appears more decorative than practical.

“Excuse me,” he asks one of those adults, “I'm here looking for A'Yuqw.”

“That's him,” the Tusken points at the game. 

Din watches more closely as the kids run around chasing the ball. 

“They'll be done in a minute, this rounds almost over.”

It appears to be some sort of ball tag, in which the children hurl the ball at the cliffside and attempt to catch it on the rebound. As Din watches, A’Yuqw fumbles the ball and runs for the rocky wall. A child half his height snatches it up and throws it to the wall a second before A’Yuqw can slap his gloved hand against it, and he turns back, laughing. He steps back to the other children, who eagerly await to rejoin the game. Din watches him with the other kids, beginning a new round before finally noticing Din’s presence. 

“Oh, Mandalorian,” he says, walking over. “You look better.”

“Yes,” Din says, unsure what else to add. 

“I'm afraid I have no duties to attend to today, apart from watching the children.”

Din hears an impatient squeak from his waist, looks down to see the child patting his arms against the armour. Din lifts him from his carrier and crouches to the ground, one arm still tucked around him securely. 

“Is it-- can he play with them?”

A’Yuqw looks down at the squirming child. “Of course.”

Din says a soft "be good" to the kid before releasing him. 

There's a wide range of heights between the half dozen kids playing, and one of the shorter ones runs up to the child to bring him in. To his delight, they hand him the ball and encourage him to throw it. It lands uselessly a foot away, but that doesn't stop the game nor the child's giggles. Din watches as the game restarts, albeit with a toddler running through it .

“Cute kid,” A’Yuqw says. 

Din pauses a second, before signing a quick ‘thanks’. As they continue to watch the game, Din eventually asks “one of them yours?”

“No,” A’Yuqw says, sounding somewhat disappointed. Din watches him watch the kids, an odd tilt to his head. 

The child wanders back over to them, looking up at the scout with big eyes. A’Yuqw crouches down, reaches out to him. Din finds he trusts the warrior in this, and allows him to scoop him up, much to the kid’s delight. He reaches right for the Tusken’s mouthpiece, grabbing on while he pats the warrior in the face with the other hand. 

“Ad’ika--” Din rushes to admonish the kid, but A’Yuqw laughs him off.

“It’s fine, all the little ones are like this.”

He bounces the kid on his chest, making him giggle. “Is that his name? That word you said?”

Din feels something like shame rush through his chest and down his limbs, hot and damning. 

“No, he… I don’t know his name yet.”

“Hm,” The Tusken tugs gently on one of the kid’s ears. He stays silent after that, both of them watching the Tusken kids playing another round. Din wishes he had a different answer to that question, a better one. 

“Have you eaten?” A’Yuqw pipes up, a few minutes later.

“The kid had a ration bar.”

A’Yuqw puts a hand on his hip, tilts his chin out. “I asked if _you’ve _eaten, Mandalorian.”__

____

____

“...No.”

A’Yuqw does a gesture Din’s unfamiliar with, but he understands the exasperation in his voice. He follows him towards the firepits, feeling younger than he is.

After a quick lunch in their respective tents, Din rejoins the scout and they head to visit the Massiffs, as promised. He lets the child toddle along ahead of him, slowing their pace and giving himself and A’Yuqw a chance to talk once again.

“You speak Tusken,” A’Yuqw states, “not many outsiders do.”

“Yes. I learned the basic signs many years ago, and have since learned the spoken aspects, during my travels.”

“You’ve travelled with other clans.” The Tusken sounds surprised.

“Yes. Clan Gafsa. I… I was fortunate to learn from them.”

“Gafsa! They are of our tribe as well,” he says, “they taught you well.”

“Oh, I… my accent is pretty bad,” Din says, “I hope to improve while I am here.”

He hears A’Yuqw huff, says something Din doesn’t quite catch. 

While he was confident in his basic communication with the Tuskens, Din was well aware that his spoken skills needed work. The grammar and inflection expressed through spoken Tusken were difficult for him to form, on account of his human vocal chords. It would be helpful to know what anatomy he was trying to mimic, but no one knew what the Tuskens looked like underneath their robes, and the Mandalorian knew better than to ask. 

As they reach the Massiff’s enclosure - a large paddock with perhaps two dozen of the creatures - A’Yuqw turns to fully face the Mandalorian, his voice for once a touch hesitant.

“I know you and the child wish to greet the Massiffs, but they take a while to warm up to. If they ignore you, that is a promising start.”

Din nods, the slight smirk that appears on his face hidden. 

“Wait here,” he tells the child in Basic. He enters the paddock, calling out a greeting to the creatures and crouching down to pet the four Massiffs that rush over to him. He finds himself grinning under the helmet - he’d always liked these creatures. One of them slides to the ground, belly up, and Din glances back at A’Yuqw while giving the exposed belly a scratch. The Tusken stands quiet for a long moment, before shaking his head with a soft laugh. Din calls the child over, who gladly waddles through the open gate to join him. 

“Gentle pets, like this” Din demonstrates, the child following his example easily. 

“That’s right, Ad’ika, good job.” 

“Buh!”

The child is half asleep on his shoulder as they walk back to Din’s tent, one long ear tickling the underside of his chin. Din takes the opportunity to question the scout alongside him.

“Do you have family here?”

“No,” says A’Yuqw, “I have a sister but she is with another tribe, learning their stories.”

Din had heard of this practice, knew the rigour and accuracy with which the oral history of the Sand People was passed down. 

“She should be back in about a month's time. Perhaps you will meet her then.”

“I would be glad to,” Din says. They’ve reached the outskirts of the encampment, standing outside his tent. 

“What about you?” A’Yuqw asks, “how did you meet your child?”

Din feels something twinge in his chest. “It’s a long story.”

“Long stories pair well with a drink.”

This is how Din finds himself on a ledge up the sandstone mountains, drinking through a straw with a Tusken Raider at his side as he retells his story. He tells A’Yuqw of the bounty that led him to the child, and their adventures that brought them to Tatooine. He interrupts to ask the odd question, but otherwise listens attentively. Din finds he hasn’t spoken so much in years, perhaps on account of having an audience who doesn’t judge his creed nor his violent profession. 

Well. Aside from the child, that is.

_Your child _, his brain provides, echoing A’Yuqw’s earlier wording. He shakes himself off that line of thought, deeming it too dangerous to follow. No use in getting overly attached, he reminds himself.__

____

____

He finishes his drink, places it on the stone beside him, and relaxes back onto his hands. 

A'Yuqw begins to tell him of his reckless adventures as a youth, back when he was training to be a warrior. Din laughs along to his misadventures, trading a few stories of his own. 

They talk for a time, then fall into a companionable silence, staring out at the Dune Sea as it shimmers in the afternoon heat. Aside from the rolling waves of sand and the odd outcrop of orange rock, the desert appears empty. 

He wishes he could stay here, away from the crowds of strangers staring at him as he passes, away from the threats against the child. He thinks of the little one asleep back in his tent, safely surrounded by a clan of warriors dedicated to protecting their own, and supposes he can stay a while longer. 

Din spends the next two days either with A’Yuqw or the group of parents he’d met his first day, getting an earful of the latest clan gossip. A’Grrk had eloped with a Tusken from a far off tribe while on an exchange, and R’Urr’Orr had botched a courting attempt rather spectacularly, resulting in no small amount of property damage. Din finds himself chuckling along to the story despite himself. 

His side had healed up well, given the time to heal, and both himself and the child were in good spirits. He’s chatting with A’Yuqw after breakfast one morning when another warrior approaches them.

“Hope you’re rested up, A’Yuqw,” the warrior calls out.

“K’Trrg!” A’Yuqw turns and clasps the warrior’s arm in an enthusiastic greeting. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, my friend. This is the Mandalorian everyone is speaking of?”

“Yes.”

Din nods his greeting, as A’Yuqw turns to introduce him.

“This is K’Trrg, she is one of our finest navigators.”

“One of,” she snorts.

“We came up together as warriors,” A’Yuqw explains. “Any stories she tells you about me, none of it is true.”

"And any story he tells you of me, it's all true," she says. A’Yuqw laughs loudly, and Din finds himself staring. The scout turns back towards him with a tilt of his head, and addresses him playfully.

“Gear up, Mandalorian, let’s see if you cut it as a Raider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we get Din and A'Yuqw travelling together! We get names, language, getting into fights, all that good shit. It's half written already but I'm so slow lol, please comment so I know people wanna read more!  
> If you have any feedback on the actual writing too, please lemme know! Or Din's characterization, I find his voice hard to write.  
> Also I've never written an OC for fanfic before, so please let me know how I'm doing! Also! What other tusken stuff do you wanna see? I basically just cherry picked stuff off wookiepedia lol.  
> Also shoutout to tuskenraidermemes on tumblr cause they got that good tusken content.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the comments and love on the first chapter!! You guys made my whole week, my whole month even! 
> 
> I’ve decided to split this chapter into two smaller parts, cause it’s taking me ages to write it haha. Thanks for your patience and support, please let me know what you think of this chapter! I'm not the best at plot stuff, but I should have the next chapter up in a week or two. If anyone wants to beta read or give feedback for plot stuff, please let me know!! 
> 
> Also I’m not a huge star wars person, I just read through wookiepedia. Please correct me if I get anything wrong.

After a few days of rest at the Tusken camp, Din's guide - A'Yuqw - is called for a scouting mission. Din requests to join them. His injured side is healing well, and he doesn't want to overstay his welcome so he tells the Tuskens that he plans to part ways at the end of the mission. 

Din needs no preparation before leaving with the Tuskens, so he helps to ready the two Bantha that would be accompanying them on their trip. While Din works, the kid stares up at the creature, wide eyed. He babbles out a greeting, and the Bantha huffs loudly. Din keeps an eye on their interaction as he tightens the straps of the saddle.

A’Yuqw’s clan had heard word of a band of outsiders travelling far from any settlement, and aimed to investigate this strange activity. If there was a threat of infringement on their land and resources, it would be swiftly dealt with.

A’Yuqw was surprised to hear the child would accompany them, but allowed it.  
In the last few days, Din had learned that the Tusken children were highly guarded, always kept in centre camp under the protections of the clan. Raising a child was risky in the high stakes environment of the desert, so each child was protected above all else. 

The navigator named K’Trrg joins him in preparing the Bantha, and after approving his work, she hops onto the other beast. 

A’Yuqw calls out a greeting as he sidles up to K'Trrg's Bantha, which Din returns.

“You know how to ride Bantha, right?”

Din nods.

“Good.”

A’Yuqw jumps onto the Bantha, while Din adjusts the child in his satchel. His jetpack gets stashed along with their other supplies, but he keeps the Amban rifle on his back and the child on his hip. He mounts the beast with much less grace than the two Tuskens.

Din calls out a command to the Bantha, who groans and sets off, following the others into the Dune Sea.

It’s midmorning by the time they’ve risen out of the valley, and the suns beam down from above. Din’s grateful for the cooling system in his suit, but even it can’t beat the heat of the desert. He feels sweat drip down his neck and gather at the edge of his cape. 

Up ahead, A’Yuqw manages to stand up and turn to sit backwards to face Din, who watches with surprise.

“Mandalorian,” he signs, “check the upper left pouch.”

Din looks down, unbuttons said pouch and finds-- a scrap of fabric? It’s thick and beige like Tusken robes, but he’s not sure what it’s for.

A’Yuqw calls for Din’s attention, and signs that “it’s for the kid”.

Upon further examination, it appears to be a bucket hat with a large brim. Din looks up at the scout ahead of him.

“It’s a bit oversized, but so are his ears, so,” the scout shrugs. 

“Thank you, it’s very thoughtful.”

A’Yuqw stands and turns back around, surprisingly agile. Din supposes this ends their conversation for now. He has long since grown used to travelling alone, only having his own thoughts for company in the long haul of space flight. This was still an improvement -- at least there was something to look at.

Din scans the desert slowly through his scope. All he can see in any direction is sand shimmering in the heat. It looks bleak, but he knows there’s life in the desert, hidden just below the surface. Scurriers hiding under the sun bleached green and purples of the Poonten grass, and hidden creatures sleeping below ground.

A few hours into their travel, K’Trrg stops the group to water the Bantha and stretch their legs. A’Yuqw takes off to hunt scurriers in the brush nearby, while Din and K’Trrg stand in the scraps of shade provided by the Banthas. The child is perched on his shoulder, kept upright by a hand. His little hands hold onto Din’s helmet, but are too small to grip properly.

Din is content to enjoy the shade in silence, but K’Trrg has other ideas.

“Is it true you got eaten by a Krayt?

He nods.

“Used to be killing a common Krayt was a rite of passage, you know.”

He didn’t know that.

“Yeah, that’s how you proved yourself, became an adult.” She laughs, leaning back against the Bantha. “If you were trying to impress us, it worked.”

Feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the praise, he asks some question about the Bantha,  
which opens the floodgates for K’Trrg to eagerly share her exhaustive knowledge of the species. Din nods along politely. 

That night, K’Trrg takes the first watch after they set up camp. She sets off to secure the perimeter. Din lights a fire for their food as A'Yuqw prepares the two Scurriers he'd caught during their travels. The fire casts a warm glow over their camp, and Din has to hold the child to stop him from wandering too close. 

“I am glad it is you who travels with the clan,” A'Yuqw says abruptly, “and not the other one. He did not respect us.”

Din pauses a moment. A'Yuqw meant Vanth of course, but he hadn't realized the Sand People still considered him akin to Din.

“He… is not one of us. He wore the armor, but is not one of my people. A true Mandalorian never removes their helmet.” 

“We are alike in that way,” A'Yuqw says with amusement.

Din gives a small, hidden smile. “I suppose we are. We are alike in many ways.”

The Tusken tilts his head, knife stilled in his hand. “How?”

Din considers his response, watching a thin trail of blood slide down the knife. “Our people are warriors. Both Mandalorians and Tusken are… seen as brutal, as killers.” 

“We are,” says A'Yuqw proudly. 

“We are,” Din laughs. “Most would not consider it a compliment.”

“Well, we are not like most,” his knife continues to work. “We are survivors.” 

Din feels something settle in his chest, and readjusts his hold of the little one, who grabs a finger. Din finds his thumb brushing over the child's hand slowly.

“I do not know much of your people,” A'Yuqw continues, “but what stories I've heard speak of your deadliness, which I've witnessed myself.”

He nods, accepting the praise, and considers his companion for a moment. “What stories have you heard?” Din hadn’t thought that much outsider information was received by the Tuskens.

“I’ve heard of your strength in battle, that one of you is worth ten of the empire’s finest.” A’Yuqw takes the prepared scurrier and skewers it above the fire. “I also heard that you are few left, that your people were also ravaged by the empire.”

“Yes,” Din says, prodding the coals with his rifle. "There are not many of us left, and we are forced to live in secrecy. That is how we survive." 

The Tusken nods, continues his work silently. Din appreciates that he doesn't ask follow up questions. 

“Food’s ready,” A’Yuqw removes the scurriers from the fire. “I’ll go bring K’Trrg hers.”

Din silently accepts a skewer before he heads into his travel tent to eat. He appreciates that the limitations of his helmet wearing was a non-issue with the Sand People. It makes things easier. 

Once he and the child have eaten their fill, Din relaxes back onto his bedroll. He wants to return to the warmth of the fire, but imagines A’Yuqw would be there, eating his own meal. He leaves the scout to eat in peace.

After another long day of travelling hard across the dunes, the two Tusken warriors sleep in their tents while Din keeps watch. He leaves the kid tucked under his cloak on the bedroll in his own tent, snoring softly.

The Dune Sea is still, blanketed in silence. The three moons of Tatooine beam down over the desert, a triptych painting the landscape in greyscale. There’s a soft breeze shifting through the sands, the last sun-warmed air of the day.

Their camp is near the bleached skeleton of a krayt dragon, half submerged in the dunes. Din sits atop its skull, scanning the desert with his rifle’s scope. Aside from the odd sand skitter wandering the scrub, all is quiet.

With one final scan, he leans back a moment against one of the horns protruding from the krayt skull. He lets out a breath slowly, tucks his arms across his chest. Enjoys the stillness of the night. 

His body reacts before his brain does -- hearing the faint hum of a vibroblade cut through the air, he reacts on instinct alone. Din throws himself to the side, slides past the maw of the beast and rolls to his feet in a defensive stance.

The first of the attackers, a large Trandoshan, jumps down towards him, and he catches the blade with his vambrace.

“A’Yuqw!” He yells out, drawing his blaster with a free hand and shooting the hunter in the gut. The Trandoshan stumbles, quickly replaced by a humanoid man, a good foot taller than the Mandalorian. He swivels to see two more hunters run towards camp, sees A’Yuqw emerge from his tent, scan the situation and immediately run in the other direction. Din doesn’t have time to dwell on the scout, returning blaster shots with the human while fending off a wicked hooked blade wielded by a Gamorrean.

K’Trrg runs out to join him, Gaffi stick swinging. She neatly breaks the human’s neck, leaving Din to disarm the Gamorrean, wrestling him to the ground. The hunter surprises Din with an electro prod, shocking his muscles into dropping his own weapon, and he falls to the ground. The hunter continues to prod him as he struggles, kicking his feet into the hunter’s gut to no avail. The Gamorrean’s forearm shifts to crush down on his neck, and his vision starts to flicker just when a rifle shot goes off, and the hunter slumps down on top of him. 

Din rises with a wheeze, hauls himself back on his feet to face… A’Yuqw. Modified rifle lowering, the kid safely in the pouch at his side.

Din blinks at the scout, then shifts his focus further back, shoots his whipcord just past A’Yuqw to snag the legs of the last hunter. Din yanks the cord back, retrieves his blade and quickly takes care of the hunter, who crumples to the ground.

He catches his breath as he surveys the camp, using his helmet’s heat vision to see if any hunters remain. Once assured that they were once again alone, he turns to the two Tuskens.

“Are you injured?”

Both of them shake their heads. Din is certain he’ll have some nasty bruises on his throat, but is otherwise fine. He stops himself from reaching out to take the kid, who seems happy enough where he is, staring up at the scout. He feels something well up in himself, some unnamed mix of emotions he quickly ignores. Instead, he thanks the two Tuskens, A’Yuqw in particular for watching the kid.

“Of course,” he replies, “Any Tusken would do the same. Anyway, I figured you’d sort out the rest of the hunters.”

Din sighs. “Still. You have my thanks. This was not part of our deal.”

“You did tell us there were people after you, Mandalorian. Regardless, we like you well enough. You can stay with us, and we’ll help protect you both.”

“That is too much--”

“Nah, we love a good fight,” says K’Trrg.

Din appreciates the kindness, but it doesn’t sit right, endangering the Tuskens for nothing in return. However, he's tired of travelling with no one to watch his back. Now that he has a kid to look after, it's not just himself he endangers by spreading himself too thin. _For the kid. Just for a little while longer._

“You are a strong warrior and skilled negotiator. I’m sure we’ll find some use for you,” he teases. 

"...Okay." He promises the Tuskens he’ll deal with the bodies while they go back to sleep.

“Sure. But the kid sleeps with me, okay?”

Din is unable to do anything but nod, stepping towards A’Yuqw to say goodnight to the child.

Later, after he finishes with the last hunter’s body and disposes of their tracking fob, he sits back heavily onto the sand. He cleans his weapons twice over to avoid thinking too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of this chapter? Please let me know!! Also I'd love to know what you think Din thinks of his current situation and the two Tuskens he's travelling with. I tried to only hint at how he's feeling, as he keeps that pretty close to his chest. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!! Next chapter, Din and A'Yuqw go into town and get into trouble again. And we get into language and names, which I'm super excited for as I'm a linguistics nerd.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the comments, I love hearing your thoughts on this story and Tusken stuff in general! 
> 
> Also, we get into some space linguistics this chapter. I’ve only really studied spoken languages, so my interpretation of Tusken Sign is limited, even though I did some research. If you have any insight into this, please feel free to share, or correct me!
> 
> Next chapter is probably gonna take longer to publish, as I don't have much written yet. Please let me know what you'd wanna see next chapter!!

As they ride towards the small town of Mos Entha, Din considers their mission. Din had suggested he go into town alone to gather what information he could on the settler activity on the outskirts of town, and his two companions were quick to agree. It also gave Din a chance to buy some supplies for their group, and contact the armorer. 

They set up a temporary camp a ways out of town, and Din continues alone on foot under A’Yuqw’s watchful eye. As he looks back at the rocky outcrop, the only clue to the Tusken’s whereabouts is the small glint of his binoculars.

Din passes the moisture vaporators at the edge of town, glancing down at the empty space at his side where the child normally sits. He sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the Tuskens to take care of the kid -- he does. He’s just gotten used to seeing the kid stare back at him, he supposes. 

Further in he spots a cantina, and takes a steadying breath before he swings the door open. Inside, it’s like any other cantina on Tatooine, although not as busy as those found in Mos Eisley. The patrons come in all different species, but they all stare at him the same. He walks purposefully to the bar, sits down. Feels eyes rake up and down his Beskar like a physical touch, tries not to let it affect him. 

“Excuse me, Barkeep,” He says, one arm resting on the bar, one near his hip.

“Yeah, what do you want?” The Barkeep is a human woman, not too much older than Din himself. She reminds him of Cara, looks like someone who could take him in an arm wrestling contest.

“I’m looking for information,” he places his bag of credits on the table in between them. “I heard there was movement out in the desert, not too far from here.”

The woman’s eyes keep darting back to the pouch, but she gives him a hard stare. Din sighs, pulls out a few credits and slides them over the bar.

“There’s a crew working just north of town,” she says, “Water mining project. They’ve just found a spot to start drilling, last I heard.”

Din watches her pocket the money, considering.

“Hey Mando!”

A voice yells out from behind him, and he turns into a fighting stance to block a blade, wielded by a rough looking Rodian. It clangs off the beskar, and the Rodian stares at him, breathing heavily.

“Remember me?”

“No,” Din says honestly, causing his attacker to draw his blaster and shoot. It ricochets off his armor and into a table, and the cantina scrambles to either take cover or get in on the action. 

The continued blaster fire bounces off his breastplate and pauldrons as he hops the bar, taking cover. He glances at the barkeep, who’s crouched down beside him and reaching for a hefty metal bat under the bar. 

“Sorry,” he says, and pops up again to return fire. 

The Rodian appears to have a handful of friends present, who seem to be attempting to blast through the bar itself, now. He takes out a couple with a clean shot, not before one of them chucks an explosive back behind the bar. Din hurls it back and above, attempting to avoid the patrons hiding beneath tables and under a booth. It collides with the domed ceiling of the cantina and explodes, raining down plaster and smoke. 

The Mandalorian takes advantage of the cover, ducking out to cut down the last of his attackers. Just as he’s leaving through the back door, an arm grabs around his neck, blade pressing in. He throws his head back, headbutting the Rodian hard enough to knock him out. He looks down at his slumped form, sighs heavily as he finishes him off. 

After buying a sack of cycler rifle bolts for the Tuskens travelling with him, Din sees a nearby table that stops him in his tracks. It's full of kids toys and clothes, colourful and bright. He ends up buying the kid another set of brown robes, and a small wooden toy. It's a squat little mudhorn, with wheels instead of feet. 

He pays for the toy, pocketing it safely. Before he leaves, he asks the vendor if she knows where he could access a holo recorder. She gives him directions to a shop that has a holo out front, but as he starts to thank her, he sees her eyes widen and freeze on something behind Din. He turns.

It's A'Yuqw, standing in the street with his chest moving quickly as he catches his breath.

"Mandalorian," he says, "You're okay."

"Yes," Din says, confused. 

"I saw the explosion, and didn't see you leave, so I came to help. But you weren't there."

Din can't help feeling a little flattered, that the Tusken would rush over to help defend him. He turns back to the vendor, and thanks her again as she stares at the pair of them, one hand creeping behind her back. 

"Let's go," he says to A'Yuqw. "I've got a call to make."

The holo recorder is in front of the post office, a small coin operated set up that's seen better days. Din would prefer to record his message in private, but thinks it unwise to leave the Tusken unaccompanied in town. 

He knows the Armorer’s private comlink code by heart, although he’s uncertain whether it’s still active. Worth a short, at least. He enters the code and a few credits, glances back at A'Yuqw. Din clears his throat before hitting record. 

“Armourer. This is… the bounty hunter for the Tribe.” Din speaks in Mando’a, and avoids any giveaways to his identity or location.

“I am back on the planet where I caught my first bounty, back with the people who I travelled with before. I will stay here a while, as myself and the child are still hunted.”

He’s not sure what else to say. The hum of the holo recorder is loud in his ears. 

“Stay alive,” he says, “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Din shuts off the recording with a click. He knows A’Yuqw didn’t understand a word, but still feels like an exposed nerve when he turns back to face him.  
The Tusken scout stands patiently, hands clasped in front of him, gaffi stick secured at his back.

"I have to buy some parts for my, uh," Din gestures at his vambrace, not knowing the word. "The flamethrower's malfunctioning."

A'Yuqw nods, and follows him deeper into Mos Entha.

As they approach the street market, Din suggests that they speak with sign only, as the townsfolk are intimidated and ill at ease with the spoken elements of Tusken.

A'Yuqw scoffs. “That's stupid.”

“I know,” says Din, “spoken Tusken may sound different but it is just as--”

“No,” A'Yuqw cuts him off, “I mean it's stupid that they lower their guard just because we sign.”

They turn the corner, onto a busy market street. The townsfolk keep well clear of the two of them, sending suspicious looks their way. Looks like they're not lowering their guard, after all. 

He buys a bag of Ahrisa from one vendor, who hands over the spicy baked goods while staring at the Tusken a half step behind Din. He realizes that his own appearance isn’t doing A’Yuqw any favours in blending in, either.

Spotting a table overflowing with spare parts, Din approaches the stand.

The vendor, a stocky man larger than Din by a fair share, exchanges coins with another customer before they leave, but upon seeing Din and his companion, his friendly smile drops into a scowl. 

"Sorry, we just closed."

"I just need a few spare parts," Din lifts his coin purse, jingling it softly. 

The man's hand reaches under the lip of the table. "I said we're closed." He mutters a few unkind words about Din’s companion.

Din sighs. Not worth getting into an argument. He turns to A'Yuqw, who doesn't shift his gaze from the vendor. 

“Come on,” Din signs, but A'Yuqw doesn't respond. 

“A'Yuqw, let's go,” he says aloud, gently tugging on the sleeve of his robe. His companion looks at him finally, huffs, and walks off. Din follows.

He keeps pace with the Tusken, keeping silent for a minute until A'Yuqw turns suddenly, grabbing ahold of his arm, above his vambrace.

“I should go. It's easier for you to be here alone.”

Din can't get a read on what emotion is colouring his voice, but his grip on Din's arm is strong. Din notes absently that, unlike most instances, being grabbed like this doesn't bother him.

“See you back at camp.” He goes to walk away, but Din grabs back at the gloved hand that A'Yuqw started to pull away.

“No! I - I'm proud to travel with you. Your people are known to be brutal. You are feared for your strength, but that to a Mandalorian is admirable, a desirable quality in a companion.”

A'Yuqw gives him this look, and Din is grateful for his helmet hiding the heat on his face. He's never been good at finding the right words, and that almost sounded like--

“Likewise,” A'Yuqw says, squeezing his arm once before letting go. “However that doesn't solve our problem. He will not sell to us.”

Din feels a smile creep onto his face. “Then let's prove him right.”

Din and A'Yuqw return to their camp laden with supplies, Din's pouch a bit lighter and his knuckles sore. The merchant ended up being most helpful, once he heard them out. 

The first sun threatens to dip below the horizon as they arrive back at camp. Their position is not far from the settler activity outside of Mos Entha, but out of their way enough to be undetected.

After updating K’Trrg on their findings in town, the navigator takes her Bantha with her for the first watch, on the crest of a nearby dune. They would attack the water miners the next night, in the low light of the moons. 

Din attends to his own Bantha while the child waddles over to its front leg, hands grabbing at the long fur. The Bantha doesn’t seem to mind, so he allows it. A'Yuqw demonstrates proper technique for brushing and hands him a coarse brush, correcting Din's form when needed. They work silently for a while.

“Would you teach me some of your language?” A’Yuqw asks out of the blue, after gently touching Din's pauldron to get his attention.

“Yes,” Din says after a long pause. “It would be advantageous for trade with the settlers--”

“No, not that Bantha shit,” he laughs, “ _your_ people’s language. The one you were speaking earlier.”

“Oh.” Din thinks on it, his brush forgotten and half buried in the Batha's thick fur. “I would teach you. But not many speak it. Basic would help more with negotiations.” 

“No.” A'Yuqw lets out a frustrated sigh. “Tusken is the language of this land. I do not need to learn their ways, they must learn ours.”

He returns to his work, watching the kid attempt to climb the Bantha’s leg. After a few minutes of failed attempts, he scoops up the kid in his arms, letting him pet the creature as Din works.

A'Yuqw clears his throat. “We were once like them, you know.”

Din's hand pauses. "Like who?"

"Empire, Republic, take your pick."

He lets this hang in the air a moment, before whistling the command for his Bantha to lie down. He sits down, leaning against the creature with a sigh. Din follows suit, the child in his lap. 

“Our stories remember a time long ago, when this land was green and lush." A'Yuqw's hands move gracefully, beginning a well practiced story. 

"We used technology to travel the stars. We colonized other worlds, we were ‘advanced’. For our hubris we were in turn conquered, nearly destroyed. Our planet turned to glass.”

The Bantha huffs as Din leans back as well. He can't help but think of Mandalore, a planet he's never seen, but one that lives in his mind as a scorched marble, glass reflecting into the dark of space.

“We hid to survive. When we emerged from the dark, we took the Long Walk through the sands, learned once again how to survive. How to live without destruction. We have lived in balance with the Dune Sea for millenia, then the invaders came and threatened that balance."

A’Yuqw’s speech is more pronounced now, his strong voice emphasizing the shape of his words.

"They stole our waters, our lands, and when we take back what was stolen, they call _us_ raiders. _They_ are the raiders. That is why we refuse their ways.”

The silence echoes with his words, their shape burnt into his eyes like staring at the sun. Din feels something like a shift in gravity -- unsettling, unfounding. 

He tries to gather his thoughts. He doesn't know what to say, so nods slowly.  
A'Yuqw stands, returns to his work. Din wordlessly follows suit. 

It's not until the next morning that they speak again. Din had the last watch of the night, giving him time to think over their previous conversation. 

He stares at A’Yuqw as he stirs a small pot by the fire, sitting back on his haunches. His back is straight as he works, and Din watches the line of his shoulders move in the thin morning light.

“A’Yuqw.”

The Tusken tilts his head up in a greeting, continues to stir.

Din sits on a stool on the other side of the fire, facing A’Yuqw. “Does it mean anything? Your name.”

A’Yuqw laughs softly. “Yes. It’s… see here?” He taps his chest with two fingers pinched together.

“Curious,” Din repeats.

“Yes. And this,” his two open palms moving to cross like an X, repeating.

“A… problem?”

“Close enough,” he says. “Put them together and you get…” He signs his name, pinched fingers tapping his chest as the other hand crosses in front.

Din finds himself smiling with a huff, repeating the name to himself, the spoken and signed in sync with each other. 

The scout lets out a chuckle. “You know, you almost have it right. It’s further back, though.”

Din tilts his head in a question, not sure what he means.

“The 'q' sound, it's further back in your throat, like this,” he demonstrates, hand around his throat. Din attempts to mimic the sound, but A’Yuqw just laughs.

“That’s close enough. Not bad for an outsider.”

Din frowns, shakes his head. “Names are important. You’re - I want to say it right."

Under A’Yuqw’s guidance, he cups his own throat, feeling it jump as he speaks.

“Hey, that was better!” He says. “You’ll get it in time, Mandalorian.”

Din sighs.

A’Yuqw places the pot back on the fire, sits back and watches as Din pulls at a loose thread on the wrist of his flight suit. He feels the weight of the Tusken’s gaze on him.

“Din,” he says aloud, suddenly.

“What?”

“My name,” he signs, “Din Djarin.”

The Tusken leans closer, and tries out his name. It comes out guttural, all consonants. Din feels something swoop in his stomach at the growled attempt at his name -- his _name_ , did he really just share that with the scout?

His skin burns under his helmet. He must be too close to the fire, shuffles back a bit.

“You’ll get it in time,” Din says, voice rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have anything you’d like to see happen in this fic, please comment and I may include it (with a shoutout ofc). I have the main ideas planned but have gaps to fill, and would be glad to hear what you guys wanna see! 
> 
> Space linguistics notes:  
> I hope this was interesting to some of you! I had fun, and I’m not using my linguistics degree for anything else right now, hahah. If you have any questions about it please ask, I love this stuff!
> 
> A'Yuqw's name is a mix of the type of names that already exist in Tusken (eg. the A' prefix meaning 'son of'), but also some cool sounds that I wanted to include (eg. the uvular stop [q] which is one of my faves).  
> His name would be 'ajuqʷ in the International Phonetic Alphabet if you wanna know the exact pronunciation!  
> For specifically what the qʷ sounds like, here you can click on the words to hear it:  
> https://sqwal.hwulmuhwqun.ca/learn/learning-the-sounds/consonants-back-of-the-mouth-sounds-kw-hw-q-qw-x-xw/#qw


End file.
